


It Goes On

by SailorSol



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-15
Updated: 2011-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-17 00:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorSol/pseuds/SailorSol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on." -- Robert Frost</p><p>Rose, post-Doomsday. AUish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Goes On

**Author's Note:**

> Written ages ago, just now archiving here. AU from before season 4.

She had promised herself that she wouldn’t forget, but as the days passed into weeks, and the weeks faded into months, the little details started to slip away.  It scared her, so she wrote down everything she could remember, and somehow it didn’t seem like two journals’ full was enough—not for two years of her life, spread out over a million trillion years and a hundred planets.  But it was all she had left, now. 

One year quickly started turning in to two, and now it had almost been as long without him as she had spent by his side.  The colors had faded, the dreams less vibrant.  She couldn’t quite recall any more how certain things had happened, and it scared her when she came across something in her journals that she didn’t remember happening at all. 

Five years had come and gone.  She only took out her old journals on rare occasions now—Christmas, the day she first met him, and the day she last saw him.  She could smile about it, now, and it didn’t hurt quite as much.  After all, the edges had all worn off, the wounds healed over into faint scars. 

She wasn’t sure how long it had been, nor what she was measuring time from any more, but she sometimes glanced at the two leather-bound books sitting on her bookshelf, never quite able to bring herself to pick them up and see what they contained.  Childish thoughts, probably, from a sadder, lonelier time in her life.  She was happy now, and she didn’t want to spoil that. 

But there was always that voice in the back of her mind, the smile that flashed behind closed eyes as she lay in bed at night, the gentle squeeze of her hand, and a song that hummed through her veins, giving her comfort in her darkest hours and taking away her pain. 

And she couldn’t help wondering if there was something she had forgotten.


End file.
